Notes From the Tree House

This is my post from my blog on my MySpace page, which I wrote this morning. I'm copying it here because the issue of age seems like such a common struggle, at least for gay men.

There is a DVD series available of the first season (only season?) of the HBO drama "Tell Me You Love Me." I watched these ten episodes over the course of the past week, finishing them on Sunday. The season is a complete storyline, beginning with the presentation of problems existing in four relationships, and ending with surprisingly satisfying resolutions (or at least transitions). On the Netflix page for this series, some of the reviews mark it down for various reasons (hey, it's not for everyone...it's very sexually explicit, for one thing), but the reason that appalled me was that watching the old couple in sexual acts was something they could have done without.

In a show that is not about pornography, but rather about sexuality and relationships, not only did these viewers miss the point completely, but they are blindly accepting their own ageism. I don't know why ageism exists. In the case of sex, our culture is embued with sexphobia and sex-shame, so it makes sense to me that people, whenever watching a sexual situation, will place themselves in their imagination in that exact place, as if they themselves were engaged in that scene. And so they don't want to picture themselves having sex with their mom or dad.

Just a guess. I wasn't shocked or put off at all by the scenes of the old couple sharing sexual intimacy. Maybe that is because I have a relationship with art, particularly the art of narrative and story-shaping. The show is a powerful story, and this is certainly an essential element in that story.

Not that I don't have my own issues with aging. I watched a film starring a particularly attractive (to me) young actor last night, and while I enjoyed the film for what it was, I found myself very distracted by not only the beauty of the young man, but also a strong sense of pain that I did not possess his physical qualities myself. I've been working with this issue lately, so it makes sense that it would "come up." Even if I were in "perfect" physical shape by modern social expectations, I would not have the same build as this actor. This led into a sexual psychology I haven't yet examined very carefully, that of a desire to possess another person physically. I'm sure there are many sources for researching and ways to explore and understand this phenomenon, so I'll put that on a shelf and return to it later.

I'm often shocked and unsettled when people in their fifties call me "still a baby." I think this is a form of self-belittlement. Certainly I often feel flattered and relieved by such a label, as it indicates I'm still "youthful" and am not expected to take adult responsibility for my actions. But, as I said, it's also unsettling, because ultimately I don't see any use - or LOGIC - in "old" being an undesirable trait. Even at 38, I'm surprised how much I've lived through and came out on the other side. I can look back and see big black holes wherein I was not in the present, but rather locked in anxiety and despair. Right now, I'm as old as I can be, and even though I have dreams and ideas about what I want to be doing tomorrow and next month and this time next year, I am much more comfortable in my own mortality than I was ten years ago.

To me, age indicates survival and strength. I don't have a sense of what sexuality and aging really means, or what aging DOES to sexuality (or vice versa), but I have, at least, a theory or two. We, USians, are commonly hung up on sexuality, which is tangled in mainstream social cliches, and hence moving past youth seems to carry a message with it of asexual depression. Also, inversely (?), with experience our sexuality can become deeper, more effective, more loving.

Is this true? I "got that" while watching Tell Me You Love Me.

And watching the film last night, the one with the beautiful actor, I "got" the importance, in a deeper way, of living in the present. Love the now, because there is no future, and the past is no longer. The film is Peaceful Warrior, and its plot is very familiar, perhaps nothing new, perhaps too schmaltzy for those who prefer their movies to have grit and blood, but it really moved me. I'm grateful for it, and I hope to live it, my way. But that's the future, so right now, I am.

I'm also kind of horny.

An internet friend of mine recently told me that he thinks a non-traditional Mass (like the Roman Catholic post-Vatican-II-style Masses) were orthodoxically incorrect. He sent me a link or two and invited me to read them to understand his point of view better.

I considered doing so, but then realized that such a thing goes against the very path I'm trying to walk.

For me, orthodoxy according to whom is the issue. Yes, we can learn from tradition. But it's just not important to me to take my "right teaching" and "right practice" from any church's dictated spokesperson(s) or institution(s). I participate in a ritual, such as a Mass, because I feel it brings me closer to God, helps me prepare my self for that Divine contact.

I feel closer to God with a folk Mass than a three-hour Orthodox liturgy, for example. Do I care about "correctness" when it is successful in that way? Of course not.

To me, spirituality is not a right/wrong game. I have no use for logic in this realm, as it's not about logic or correct interpretation of God's will. I don't need to discern or be taught God's will. If it's God's will, if God is all-powerful, then that will has already been done. If I'm supposed to choose correct behavior via my own free-will, then I can only assume that knowledge of such behavior should be obvious, such that it's easy to know if I'm going against what God "wants."

I think God loves. I'm not so sure that God cares if we all agree about liturgical formulae.

Peace and all good.

Today's "Get Fuzzy" has brought forth some questions.

Does the failure of someone, when insulted, to snap back at someone like a cat constitute spinelessness?

Does the failure of the Democratic Party to ruthlessly lie and shed blood upon its opponents consitute spinelessness?
Is it true, as so many progressive pundits are saying, that the only way to beat the neocons and to change the world for the better is to play their nasty game and shove it right back in their collective face?

If so, does the end justify the means?

And in actuality, will such means actually lead to the desired end?

In other words, does ruthlessness have corrupting or addictive powers over those who employ it?

And now, rather than a question, a statement:

I'd rather converse with, befriend, have sex with, fall in love with, date, marry someone who shows a thoughtful and kind regard in his or her dealings with others, than to do any of those things with someone who speaks with blunt nastiness.  The nastiness is an ugly thing, and the thoughtfulness leads to more just decisions.  Hence, I prefer the same qualities in my elected officials.
As for beating the neocons, I don't know the answer.  But I do suspect that beating them by becoming them is a rather pointless exercise.

I seem to have a thing for waiters.

Friends have watched and supported me during a comical back and forth thing between me and a waiter at a restaurant near where I work. We had mutual attraction, and I finally gave him my number. He never called, and I decided it wasn't going to happen. We finally went back to that restaurant. He gave me his number. I called it, and it was disconnected. I've decided again that it isn't going to happen.

This evening I went to dinner with my parents, and we had a very cute waiter. Whaddya know. My gaydar agreed with my attraction. This guy wouldn't meet my attempts at eye contact. I joked with my mom that I wanted to take his picture with my new cell phone. Why? she asked. Why wouldn't I? I replied. I liked his nervous smile and occasional blush and I wondered if I was reading this as a possible mutual attraction as well.

But instead of getting into all of that, the wondering and game-playing and flirting and going back there hoping I'll get him as a waiter, but this time without my parents, I'm just going to go to the MCC this weekend, even though it's not really my kind of worship, and get to know the people there. Should be a good way to meet guys, right? Maybe. I hope so. I'm feeling that hunger for a significant man in my life. That's what I'm putting out there. I have a lot to offer, I'm a kind and loving person, and in short am a good catch for those who like slightly disordered fish.

Really, I'm ready to mingle my good qualities with that of another man. The time has arrived.

Last Friday I sent a somewhat garbled post to several Christian-related discussion groups to which I belong. It's not the most eloquent thing, but I'll paste it here, then add some comments based on the many responses generated by it:

I'm sending this (bcc) to a few different groups I belong to, because
I know the "make up" of the memberships of each tends to have a
different flavor.

A few people know this about me already. I tend to have radical
faith-swings. From strong faith to no faith, and it can happen in a
couple hours or less. Or I'll wake up and it won't be there. I
travel from denomination to denomination, church to church, joining
and quitting, and blah blah blah.

My main goal in life is to achieve inner peace. Just a tiny little goal, yes?

But the question I present to everyone who feels moved to answer: how
to you approach the idea of faith? I know everyone experiences doubt,
but that's not what I'm talking about. How do you maintain even the
smallest amount? How do you get yourself to pray? I hate praying. I
feel awkward and stupid. I'm okay with rote prayer, like with the
rosary, which gets me past myself a bit and puts me in a good spirit,
but relationship faith? "I am with God"? I don't even know what this
stuff means anymore, though of course this makes my post a bit, well,
confused. I'll put this up on my blog too. (New one at
christiangays.com)

I received so many diverse and excellent replies to my comments that I still have a lot of processing to do.

Where I'm at:

Faith is often considered a gift by many who have a steadfast belief in God. Since mine is just a hunch, rather than a steadfast belief, my faith needs to be of another definition, expressed by many folks: a decision to trust. Each time I make it to church, and say, "Lord, I want to believe. I feel good here. Help me make it again next week." In cold reality, I rarely want to get out of bed on Sunday morning, shower, get dressed, take the dog to my parents' house because I don't like to leave her alone in the apartment, and drive to church before 8 am, when I really just want to lounge around.

Once I'm there, I rarely regret it. At least this church. It's a wonderful Episcopalian church with a gay-accepting priest and congregation, as far as I've experienced. I don't hide it, and in fact have casually brought it up myself. The sermons which are preached are progressive but not overly political. God feels approachable there. I guess that feeling alone is a kind of faith.

So I was stressing out because going into chat mode with God felt more like I was talking to myself, and often led me into a spiral of correcting and second-guessing myself in the midst of this prayer. And of course, the big duh: Saying the Rosary, I said, is the only kind of prayer that really lifts me out of myself. And, as it was suggested by many folks, maybe that's a sign that saying the Rosary is a good way for me to pray.

I guess I can be kind of dense sometimes.

As I consider this, I do realize that it's not really accurate for me to say that the Rosary is the only effective prayer I've tried. But I have to expand my idea of prayer to fit these things in:

Getting outside, with the intent of learning from nature. I've done this before and have even shared with others the benefits I've derived getting out there and awaiting God's message. I think it's God, in creation, whoever and whatever God is.

Music. Yesterday, driving to my sister's house to finally meet my new niece, The Stray Cats' song "Rock This Town" came on. This was the first time I listened to an entire song in my car at full volume. I sang along and danced as I drove up the freeway. I went so far out of my body that I didn't realize that I was singing so forcefully that my throat was going to suffer for it.

And you just can't get much closer to God, I think, than sitting in darkness, or maybe candlelight, with Pachelbel's Canon filling the room.

Howdees, Thankees, Helpmees Quick acknowledgments, expressions of gratitude, or requests for help or blessings on others throughout the day could get me refocused pretty quickly. I cannot rely on this as an exclusive form of prayer if I want to get closer to God, because I've done this forever and it's become a habit and even a bit of compulsion and isn't really very centering. However, I am going to continue doing it, forgiving myself for any bit of self-obligating that slips in. I'd like my relationship with God to be a walk as well as a peaceful meditation, a joyous slumber.

Something I won't be using, at least as prescribed: I was once taught a formula: ACTS. Adoration, Contrition, Thanksgiving, and S...which is asking for stuff, I guess though I don't remember what S stands for. The formula, for me, created these false-sounding prayers and didn't work well either. (Also, if I'm lying in bed praying in the ACTS formula, I tend to fall asleep right around Thanksgiving.)

Yesterday, our priest's sermon about the good shepherd idea focused on the idea of sheep. Christians as sheep. We are not to stay locked in our pen in fear. We are to see Christ, trust him, and allow him to set us free as new creatures without fear. I am thinking, in this moment, that to truly follow Christ we must trust him. I do not see the idea of a sheep as a mindless member of a herd. A sheep is a beautiful, gentle creature who thrives by trusting. And so, what can we learn from this?

As for now, my "space" is cluttered. So is my mind. Time to clear them out and make room for God.

And by doing what works, I trust that my faith will grow beyond trust and into a steadfast relationship.